Sometimes, when I'm really sad or lonely, I look at pictures of the people I love. In photo albums, on Facebook, on my fridge, I go through them all and relive the moments the photos were taken. I go through pictures of my big brother in a genie costume with blue paint all over his face and giggle at what he'd look like in it now. I look at photos from birthday parties when I was four and see if I can recognize every guest. But I am usually interrupted part way through. I never get to the back of the book, the photos uploaded a year ago and forgotten by the user. Not until a week ago did I open up her facebook page and look at all the photos of Olivea. And I saw some that I'd never seen before; from before I knew her as she really was, from before I can remember. I saw the photos of her plays and her seventeen hair colors and her adventures in the rain or on the beach and I saw the photos of her in the hospital with her head in a bandage and the picture of her clutching her bear with one arm in a cast. I saw the photos from our ice skating trip last year and from our pool party and from her brief spell at college. I saw the photos from New Mexico and the beauty she was surrounded by. And I saw how perfectly she blended in with everything around her. Her new home suited her so well. And I saw what a beautiful person she was and I desperately wished that I could come in there and scoop her up and put her back where she belonged - in the dirty city surrounded by people who know where she is and know when something is really wrong and aren't fooled by her cheery voice. I wished I could take her away from that beautiful ranch where she can pretend nothing is wrong and keep her close to me so she can't ever hurt herself. And more than all that, I wished she was better.

And then I realized, as I got to the beginning of the album, that she was never going to get better. Her life is a series of ups and downs, remissions and relapses. Her cycle will never end. And that felt even worse. Because she is my sister. Because I tried so hard to help her get better. Because she's been through too much already. Because she will always be sick, and she will always be lost. And no matter how happy and healthy I am, I will never be guilt-free. Instead, I will think of ways to give my happiness to Olivea.

-Lucie, 15